


Good Things with Small Packages

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self Confidence, Size Kink, Small Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Size matters, particularly when Clint fits so <i>perfectly</i>.  And he knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Things with Small Packages

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [a prompt on avengerkink](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19458.html?thread=45580802#t45580802).

"Clothes off," Steve breathed, voice hitching as Clint sucked on the side of his neck, holding his hands down willingly as a spectacular bruise rose to the surface of his skin. It was good look on Steve, purple-blue and red against pale golden tan, and Clint willingly paused to pull Steve’s shirt off, and start on his belt. Laughing, Steve lifted his hips so Clint could pull his sweatpants off, leaving just a set of boxer briefs with a substantial bulge to show his enthusiasm.

Clint had never been big in that department. Actually, he was downright petite. But he’d ridden off the dressing room snickers in the circus and the locker room sideways glances at SHIELD by being able to outshoot, outfight, outlast, and outfuck anyone who you cared to name, any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Jokes about using his long arrows to “compensate” had died a short, nasty death when Clint had turned the tables with cutting comments about certain agents’ custom firearms or oversized combat knives.

Besides, Clint was positive he’d had more fun with his travel-sized penis than anyone else with a baseball bat in their pants and no imagination.

Though maybe there was just a teeny, tiny (no irony here, no sir) bit of apprehension as he laid Steve bare, because if you looked up “perfect specimen of manhood in all areas” in the dictionary, there would be a fold-out of Steven Grant Rogers in full color.

Steve reached up when Clint just sat back on his heels to admire, pulling Clint back into a deep kiss until he had to come up for air. Steve’s throbbing length was caught between them, and he hissed somewhere between pleasure and pain as he was squeezed between his own stomach and the roughness of Clint’s jeans.

“You too. I need to see you.”

Clint whipped his shirt off just to watch Steve’s eyes drink in the sight of him, down the swells of his arms and the scars of his profession, and shucked his jeans and underwear without slowing down. He was hard, had been nearly since they’d finally turned the corner from “heavy petting” to “naked, right the hell now,” and Clint needed to feel Steve against him, skin-on-skin.

Steve looked a little stunned, half-drunk, but he did blink a little as he roved his gaze up and down his boyfriend’s body, and the extremely modest erection straining for him. Clint was used to far worse reactions from flings who’d needed a thorough education in how he could Yoda them into a trembling, boneless mess and leaving them wondering what the hell had happened. “Size matters not,” indeed.

But Steve just blinked again, coming back to himself, and started to smile in that seductive, secretly dirty way that had drawn Clint to him almost from the start. Steve’s tongue darted out, pink and wet, and laved over his right hand, leaving it slick. Without stopping, he closed his hand around Clint’s entire cock and balls, squeezing just right.

“Fuck _yes!_ ,” Clint growled, hips jerking into the slick, tight confines of Steve’s hand. No part of him was left out, and he felt his brain starting to pleasantly fizz as Steve’s ready grip shifted enough to let him feel new and exciting things every time he moved. He set his hands on Steve’s shoulders, clawing slightly as he put his body into it, giving Steve a show.

“Look at you, look at you, you’re amazing,” Steve said hoarsely, eyes heavy-lidded. “I wanna, I need to…”

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, Steve let go and flicked Clint on the chest just hard enough to set him on his back. With a desperate-sounding moan, Steve settled himself between Clint’s legs, licking his lips, looking _starving_ for something he’d never let himself have before.

“Go for it, Steve, I want you to,” Clint urged, and threw his head back as Steve took all of him in his mouth, rolling his balls on his tongue. He couldn’t last long, not with his cock in the tight, slick heaven of Steve’s mouth, and managed an incoherent warning before he spilled on Steve’s tongue, his hand tight on Steve’s head, tangled in his hair.

Breathing out slowly, getting his wind back, Clint let go, making a very undignified, if quite satisfied, noise as Steve let him go.

“That was so, so…” words were very hard right now, “good.” Giving up any attempt at eloquence, he tugged Steve up for a kiss, feeling his hardness trapped between them.

“I’ve never,” Steve began, and got cut off by another hard kiss as Clint groped for the lube on the table blindly. “Never able to before. I always choked. I-.” Steve had to stop, words clicking dry for a moment as Clint poured a small handful of slick into his hands and rubbed it between his thighs, along the cleft of his ass and his recovering dick. Steve didn’t know what was coming next, but Clint knew he was dying to find out. He paused, hand upraised, and lifted an eyebrow for Steve to continue.

“I could feel _everything_ , I could take it,” Steve managed to say, and hissed in pleasure as Clint rubbed his slick hand over Steve’s erection, taking the time to travel slow all the way up and down its length teasingly. Clint pulled Steve close with his other hand, mouth pressed close to his ear.

“You loved it,” he said forcefully, and Steve moaned almost helplessly, nodding. Heaven help him, Steve Rogers was a secret cock-slut. Screw all refractory periods to hell, Clint felt himself getting hard again from just the sound. “God, Steve.”

Clint dropped to his hands and knees, back to Steve, and reached back to grab him and pull Steve close, then pull at the slick channel that formed between his own muscular thighs. 

“Right here, push it in. I want to feel you against me,” Clint urged, and cursed in three languages (two of them mostly made up) when Steve didn’t even hesitate, plunging in and then freezing when he felt all of him embraced by Clint’s body, and the tip of his cock against the base of Clint’s, the small balls against the shaft. Steve shivered all over, and pulled back just long enough to do it again. Clint arched his back and stifled a gasp as Steve kept going, pulling out and pushing in slow, Steve’s size rubbing against Clint’s in a whole new way.

It was too much of a tease for Clint to stand for long, and he turned himself, getting his and Steve’s erections together in one hand, pumping once, twice, and crying out as Steve came, his come coating Clint’s penis completely. Steve shuddered through his orgasm, eyes fluttering, and then nailed them on Clint’s glistening white cock with a look of longing.

“Go for it,” Clint urged, blood boiling at the desire in Steve’s eyes, and Steve sucked him into his mouth, drinking down his own semen as he tipped Clint over the edge for the second time. He moaned in satisfaction as Clint’s taste mingled with his own.

Urging Steve up, Clint kissed him slowly as they calmed down, reveling in the slick/sticky feel of both of their bodies, and the way they fit together.

“I fucking love you,” Clint whispered fiercely. 

“…Love you,” Steve said back, and pulled Clint close until they were nearly as one against his big frame.

And that was no small thing.


End file.
